Bored
by CaptainOfMyShip
Summary: Near is a bored genius, solving cases and amassing a fortune, but not doing much with his life. Mello, facing equal boredom, steps in and changes everything. Where will their friendship take them? MelloxNear, lighter and fluffier than most of my pieces.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I'm in an amazing mood, because for breakfast, I had a slice of carrot cake, half a pint of cake batter flavored ice cream, a bag of chocolate truffles, brownies, and an apple. Because an apple a day keeps the doctor away. ;) So I thought, hey, I have way too many stories that I'm trying to keep up with. I know! I'll write another one!**_

It had started when he was in elementary school. Someone looked down at Nate River where he had been pushed, bruised and bleeding onto the floor and commanded him to

"Cry." He had looked up, with one black eye, and the other eyelid scratched, so it looked like he had obeyed the command and cried blood. He looked up through his injuries at his tormenter standing over him and asked,

"Why?" His attacker had actually stopped then, mid-kick, to stare at Nate in disbelief.

"Are you even fucking human?" Nate stopped himself from correcting the use of profanities since it was what had gotten him in the situation in the first place, and breathed a sigh of relief when the bully left.

All around the school the next day, he had heard whispers and giggles when he passed. The most frequent thing he heard was

"Near." Near. Short for Nearly human. As an albino, Nate had always faced prejudice born from ignorance, but he suspected the skepticism regarding his humanity was actually borne from his emotionless attitude, more than his perfectly white appearance.

It didn't bother him, really. Deep in his mind, something niggled about a rose by any other name, and how identity defined titles, not the other way around, but really, he truly didn't care. If there was any part of it he cared about, it was the intent behind the christening, and the worry that his fellow classmates would believe they had won.

Nate did not like to lose.

So he retaliated. That very day, there was a substitute teacher and when she reached his name

"Nate River," He raised his hand, looked her in the eye and said,

"I prefer to be called Near." And she had raised a manicured hand up to pastel lipsticked lips and said,

"Oh. Okay, alright." And written a note on the attendance sheet.

Claiming the name had two benefits. A rumor went around the school that Near actually _wasn't_ human. When he heard this, Near touched his lips and wondered if there was a limit to human stupidity and if it was a topic worth investigating at all. Still, some slight notoriety came with the possibility of being supernatural, and the taunting lessened, though there was a deeply frustrating week during which the concept that Near could not touch color was introduced, and everyone seemed to want to try and touch him with brightly colored pocket handkerchiefs.

This too, passed, as did every other rumor and theory passed from childish lips to childish ears, and Near found that even as he left that stage of his life behind, to lose the name would be to admit to never having wanted it, and so he chose to take it with him.

Middle school passed much the same way.

And high school began similarly.

Sometime along the way, he was labeled "gifted", to which he responded,

"Assuming a student is unintelligent because he is quiet is foolish, and my silence clearly stems from my classmates' constant abuse. Please try and be less incompetent in the future." It seemed the counselor got over her shock enough to take action, because, suddenly, Near was being propelled through coursework, tests, and books and realizing, for the first time, that learning at an appropriate level was, not only something he loved, but something he was good at. Still, the public school system was absolute rubbish, and with his new hunger for knowledge, he needed to do _more._

He started picking up textbooks from the library, but the one time he lost a book, they informed him he could check no more out until he payed his fines.

_With what money?_ He almost asked, but admitting his orphan status was rarely something that brought anything more productive than pity.

For a time, he traded in old books for store credit at a local used bookstore and taught himself through Latin, French, Calculus, and Thermodynamics. Still, donated books always got slightly less than they were worth, and purchased books slightly more, so he quickly ran out of both credit and books.

Looking around at the other fifteen year olds in his school who were, though admittedly more concerned with buying dates, clothes and music than books, privileged by a steady income, either through parents or through work, Near decided he needed to get a job. He spent a few weeks in the library, before he was fired for being antisocial, and hiding himself away with books, and a few months in a record store, where he was constantly praised for his ability to memorize the placement of every single thing, and eccentricity was expected.

"How'd you know that was there?"

"I put it there."

"That was months ago, man."

"Yes."

"…alright, dude, you're a lifesaver. Heh heh. I can never find anything."

"I am glad I was able to be of assistance."

Despite his talent at the record store, the loud music was a constant strain on Near's psyche, and with his first paycheck, he bought a stack of books on business management, financial planning and microeconomic history.

He carefully invested the rest of his first paycheck, and all of his second, and was pleased to find a small financial yield. As soon as the third month passed the same way, Near quit his job with Nick's Records and focused completely on his self-education and his expanding investments.

By sixteen and two months, Near made his first million and used it as proof that he could support himself in his case to get legally emancipated from the orphanage. The institution agreed that he was both self-supporting and responsible, and it was an easy, and uniquely tearless move from the orphanage into his own small apartment.

Near was quickly learning that with money came the ability to make even more money.

At early seventeen, Near was a senior in high school and the owner of Near Industries. For him, naming the company was a victory over those who had given him the insulting name in the first place. He hired someone else to appear at events, and many people wondered about who the mysterious owner of the corporation really was.

The day Near reached his first billion, he was pushed into a fountain while walking to school, and had to endure partially see-through clothes for the entirety of his trip back home and his late return to school. He honestly didn't know why he continued to go to school in the first place. It wasn't because he needed to go, or even because- god forbid- he enjoyed the experience. No, if anything, Near continued to go to school because he knew without school he would sit in his apartment, quietly amassing billions, and since that's what he would do when he graduated anyways, why not finish senior year?

In the mid-year senior rush to find a good college, Near discovered that he had essentially taught himself the entire courses for most of the majors his fellow classmates were considering. Any job would be a waste of time.

At some point around this time, Near bought and moved into a small house, because his neighbors were loud, and he needed more space for his books.

Near turned briefly to fiction, but found that his flawless memory was not conducive to the overlooking of plot holes, and he was not willing to succumb to the willing suspension of disbelief. So Near read books in which the challenge was to find those holes. Mystery novels entertained Near for almost a whole four days, until he grasped the patterns and began to solve them within the first few chapters. It irritated Near when the investigators overlooked some area until the last scene when the novel was set up to find the vital clue.

Near began to watch the news and race the police to catch criminals. This was somewhat more of a challenge, but he still struggled with the idiotically slow methods the law enforcement seemed to use. He made a sizable anonymous donation to the police station so they could afford more investigators. Instead, every office computer in the division was upgraded.

Next, Near learned how to hack. He read every book the bookstore had to offer on the subject and practiced on multiple systems before he chanced hacking into the police servers. Suddenly, solving the cases became much, much easier. Being on an equal playing ground with law enforcement only served to show Near that he wasn't on an equal playing ground, he was much, much, better.

Near began to leave anonymous tips. Taking a tip from his favorite crime mystery writer "L", Near took the pseudonym "N".

By mid second semester, N was a well known name in law enforcement. Near started only stepping in for impossible cases. An interview was published in which the Chief Constable announced that if N were to reveal himself, he would be offered a job with law enforcement, and could save many more lives.

Near hacked into the site and changed the article, so that it looked as if he had been interviewed as well, and answered,

"I am grateful that the Chief Constable regards me so highly, however, I am not in need of any money at this time, nor am I particularly concerned with saving lives. I will continue to step in on the cases that interest me."

Near suffered from a brief spell of bad publicity following this declaration, however, when he solved a high profile case involving a school full of children being taken hostage, he once more became the mysterious and well-loved detective.

When he was tormented at school, he started smirking at his attackers, knowing how many of them looked up to him, not knowing who he was. The response unnerved them, and bullying was at an all time low.

He wasn't happy, exactly, but he was entertained, and not unhappy, which was a first for Near.

One day, while getting his morning Danish and coffee from Lola's- one thing Near had never mastered was cooking- a blonde woman pushed in front of him, wearing a soft black sweater, and black slacks.

"Hey, can I have that?" Oh. It was a man. He pointed to the last Danish. Near was already mourning the disruption of his routine and deciding on where to buy another Danish when Lola shook her head at the blonde and said,

"Sorry, sir. The boy in front of you in line was going to get that." She wrapped it up and handed it to Near, who payed. He hadn't taken two steps away when the blonde appeared in front of Near and said,

"Since you took my Danish, you owe me, right?"

"Technically,-" Near began, but was interrupted when the blonde leaned over and took a bite out of the top of the Danish in Near's hand. Near stared at the stranger. He cheerfully waved at Near, ignoring the shocked expression, and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Near called. He stopped, waiting. "You can have the rest of the Danish. I will not be eating it."

"Don't be such a germophobe. I brush three times a day." Was the stranger's reply, and he left. Near was deeply disturbed by this encounter, and stared at his Danish for a long, long time, before taking a tiny bite out of the bottom, on the opposite side from the stranger's bite, and throwing it away. He went to school hungry.

Two days later, Near found himself once again facing the weekly dilemma of free time. Saturdays and Sundays were always a struggle. Just outside his door, by the newspaper, was a flyer for a new exhibit at the museum, dealing with optical illusions and the manipulation of reality called "Keeping It Real". Near rolled his eyes at the name, but it seemed interesting enough, so he dressed in a fresh pair of white pajamas and left.

Near was glad he'd gone. It was rare he found something he took pleasure in, anymore, and art allowed him to observe not only the work of the artists, but the reactions of the people around him. Socializing was never something Near excelled at, or even understood, and in a gallery, he was permitted to stare as long as he wanted.

Three rooms in, he was assaulted by a blur of black and blonde.

"You came!" Near extricated himself from the unwanted contact as quickly as possible, and asked

"Was I expected to?"

"Well, I did leave the flyer by your door, but I didn't know if this was your kind of thing."

"How did you know where I live?"

"I followed you from the café." Near was prepared to make accusations about stalking; he hadn't expected a confession.

"Oh. I have to go, now." As he turned to leave, the blonde grabbed his wrist. He turned back, with more fear in his eyes then he had meant for there to be. The blonde immediately softened his grip, and said,

"Just so you know, my name is Mello."

"I am Near." Near said, instinctively, and then inwardly winced. That was encouraging behavior. "Please do not continue to stalk me." He yanked his arm free, and escaped as quickly as he could without running. To his house. The house Mello knew the address of.

Near locked every window and door, and turned on the burglar alarm before he went to sleep.

When he woke up, there were cookies on his kitchen counter, and written in flour, the word "cute" with part of his dismantled alarm system next to it.

Near briefly considered calling the police, but he happened to know exactly how incompetent they were, and decided not to waste his time. He picked up a cookie, and bit into it. Immediately, he regretted the action. They could have been poisoned, or drugged. But no, they were just crispy and a little bit warm. Three cookies through the plate, Near's phone rang, for maybe the fifth time since he'd gotten it.

"Hello?" He answered, cautiously.

"Hey! Didja get my gift?"

"I did. Breaking and entering is a crime, punishable by up to-"

"I didn't break anything."

"Except my security system." This time, Mello had the grace to sound ashamed.

"Yeah, but I bought you a new one. Check your porch." Near peeked out his window, and saw a gift wrapped box sitting on his porch. "It's better, so you can feel safe." Mello said, sounding smug.

"Using that would defeat the purpose of keeping you out."

"Well, no, it can't do that, but not much can. Anyways, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come hang out with me?"

"What would that entail?"

"I dunno. I'll buy you lunch?"

"No thank you. I can feed myself."

"C'mon! It'll be fun."

"If I agree to 'hang out' with you, will you agree to stop coming to my house?"

"I-"

"TOLD YA YOU WERE BEING CREEPY!" shouted a voice from the background.

"Shut up, Matty! Yeah, if it bothers you, you only have to ask."

"Then will you please stop contacting me at all?" The background voice- Matty- started cackling.

"That's not fair. You haven't even given me a chance. Lemme buy you one lunch, and then you can decide if you want me to go away forever." The phone was quiet for a while, while Near considered.

"Very well. One time."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll pick you up at twelve thirty?"

"No. I will meet you at Nonna's Bistro at one. Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah, see you there!"

"Good bye."

At twelve fifty sharp, Near showed up at Nonna's bistro, and ordered his food, paying in advance so he could leave if he needed to.

Mello showed up at 1:02 wearing…leather. Lots of it. Near, in his white pajamas, felt he had no right to judge, but the waitress certainly didn't restrain herself. She spent a good deal of time staring at the two of them before Mello tapped the table to get her attention, and she hastily took his order.

Near resolved to eat his meal in silence and then leave. He was used to ignoring people. Mello, however, was not used to being ignored. Halfway through his plate, he snapped.

"You gonna say something? That's the point of this whole thing, you know. Getting to know one another."

"I have no wish to know anything about you."

"Allllright. Well, I want to know all about you."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"I find you fascinating. And I'm bored."

"You have decided to stalk me because you are bored?"

"I wish you would stop throwing that word around. I've decided you're worth investigating because you're interesting. Anyways, you should know all about being bored, _N._"

With one syllable, Mello accomplished something almost no one ever had before. He shocked Near speechless. Mello leaned back, apparently satisfied to have left Near gaping, until Near managed the word,

"H-How?"

"You're a good hacker, man, but you left little signatures. Traced it back to your house, where, obviously, you live."

"Thank you. I am done eating. Please do not contact me again."

"Or what?"

"Or I will call the police." Mello was already shaking his head.

"People like you and me are above and beneath the law. You break the law every time you hack into the police network, but it's alright, because you're _better_ than them."

"And what illegal activities do you partake in?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'people like you and me'. What do you do?" Mello grinned.

"Whatever I want."

Near absorbed the loss of his secret identity with cool acceptance after the initial shock, and when Mello left, after a frantic phone call with an unknown ("How the fuck did you set the couch on fire?"), Near accepted his apologies, and stared at the few bills he had left behind, and was secretly pleased that although Near had been exposed, Nate River was still his very own.

After a while, Near also got up and left. And when he went home, he installed the security system Mello had left. There was a pre-set code. Near had known there would be. And if Mello was as good as he said he was- which Near had no reason to doubt - he could probably get in regardless.

Monday came, and with it, the end to the most eventful weekend of Near's life. He endured the torment of his peers, and the dull monotones of his teachers' lectures with his usual blank countenance, while inside, he sighed in relief that at least to these people, he was only another boy in school. He had to defend himself against no more attention than usual, and for that, he was grateful.

In sixth period, while reading a collection of essays on the structure of biological materials- Near's teachers had long since given up on teaching him, and mostly allowed him to read through their classes- Near happened to overhear a debate on the merits of dying one's hair with Kool-Aid evolve into a debate on whether or not pouring Kool-Aid on Near would be enough to turn him blue.

Near sincerely hoped it wouldn't be. When a girl produced two packets of Kool-aid, and the boys started making plans to mix it in water bottles, Near started to seriously worry about his trip home. At best, his clothes would be sticky, at worst, he actually would come to school blue.

When school ended, Near walked to the gate, wondering if he could sprint home without tripping himself on the long hem of his pants. It seemed unlikely. When he looked up, Mello was leaning against the gate, like a knight in shining- er, leather, and dangling a pair of keys from his fingers. As he saw Near, he straightened up and said,

"Hi! I was wondering if you wanted a ride home?"

"Yes!" Near answered, a little too quickly, and nearly did trip himself running up to Mello. Mello raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. Near hummed to himself, something nearly tuneless, in celebration at having dodged the proverbial bullet when…he saw Mello's mode of transportation.

"You drove that?" He asked, just to be sure.

"Yeah."

"And you want me…to ride in it also?"

"That was the general idea."

"Is it safe?"

"Yeah? I mean, as long as you don't jump out or anything." Near looked at the shiny black motorcycle and took a few steps back, towards the courtyard. Then he saw a small group of boys huddled around a girl with suspiciously blue stained fingers, and a water bottle.

He looked at the motorcycle.

He looked at the group of students.

He looked at the mud-splattered wheels.

He looked at the blue stained fingers.

He looked at Mello's too-excited grin.

He looked at the sadistic grins of the students.

"Hey, Near, what's wrong? You look like a frightened deer, like you're about to-" Near bolted.

Near was not athletic in any sense of the word, and made it only about ten feet before Mello caught him, and easily dragged him back to the motorcycle.

"Calm down, it won't be that bad." Near muttered something disjointedly that sounded like

"I don't want to be blue…" and Mello nodded reassuringly as he set him up on the seat, and replied

"You don't have to." Even as he inconspicuously checked Near's pupils for drug-induced dilation.

Near clung to Mello's back and buried his face into the leather as much as he could while wearing the helmet Mello had given up for him. When his fingers began to grow cold, he locked them together firmly in front of Mello's chest so numbness would not interfere with his continued existence. His house wasn't that far away, but when he got there, he had never been so grateful to be home.

"Calm down, it wasn't that bad." Near looked up from his almost reverent unlocking of his front door.

"Yes, it was."

"What was bad about it? You lived, didn't you?" To which Near's calm response was,

"I am pleasantly surprised to have survived the trip and I will ride a donkey to school before I lay a single finger on that death trap again."

"I see. You gonna invite me in?"

"No." Mello pouted.

"But all I've ever seen of your house is the hall and the kitchen, and it was dark then."

"Perhaps if you do not trespass in the future, people will be more open to allowing you into their homes."

"I wanted to leave you something."

"Leave me alone!"

"You don't mean that."

"I assure you, I do."

"But our lunch date was cut short."

"What do you want from me? You know-…" Near beckoned Mello closer "You know I am N. What do you hope will come from this? What do you want from N?" Mello laughed.

"Nothing sinister, don't make that face. I just want to be entertained."

"How do you expect I will be able to do that?"

"I dunno. It's working so far, though. And I haven't even seen you do anything as N. You, Near, are very entertaining, all by yourself." Mello reached out and poked the tip of Near's nose. Near immediately froze, fighting his natural reaction to flinch with his intense desire to prove Mello wrong and not be…entertaining. Mello, of course, circumvented this approach by laughing again and retreating back to his motorcycle.

"Plus, you're cute! Next time, I'll bring the car. And next time, you'll invite me in. Deal?" Near sniffed at Mello in neither agreement nor disagreement and went inside. Mello laughed as he drove away.

Near managed to avoid being dyed any unnatural colors by eating lunch in a small corner of the library, and allowing Mello to drive him home. He heaved a sigh at Mello's constant chatter, but at least he had brought a real car this time.

As Near had both dreaded and expected, when the time came for him to continue his solitary life, and recover from the shock of Mello's driving- which had been almost as terrifying as the motorcycle ride- Mello stuck his foot in the door before it could close.

"I get to come in this time."

"I agreed to no such thing." Said Near, but Mello was already giving himself a tour and gawking at Near's things.

"Jesus Christ, Near. You could make a fortune letting people borrow these. Seriously, it's like a library in here." It was. Both guest rooms were filled with rows and rows of shelves, and every spare wall in all the other rooms was also filled.

"I would rather have the books to myself than have a fortune."

"Have you read all of these?"

"Yes."

"Even…" Mello selected a particularly dry looking book, "Organic Chemistry: A Study of Research Development Through the Ages?"

"Yes."

"Damn." Near felt a small burst of pride at the sentiment. After all, he'd never had anyone to share his considerable accomplishments with, and although it was a little concerning that he was doing so with his stalker, he couldn't help but feel a certain self-importance.

"So, uh, where d'you do your N stuff?"

Near silently led him to the office, where, in between a somewhat less orderly stack of books, sat a computer, three laptops and several rows of hard drives. Mello seemed disappointed.

"This is it? No bat-cave?"

"What?"

You know, you pull a certain book out of one of those many shelves and the wall opens, revealing a secret passage way to your secret work station?" Near looked at him oddly.

"Wouldn't that be more suspicious than having the computers here?"

"You're hopeless, and now I've lost ten dollars."

"How do the two relate?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing, I just bet someone that you would have a bat cave. N has style like that, ya know?"

"I do not do anything with unnecessary flair. Who else have you told about my identity?"

"Call it what you want, but that interview thing was fuckin' great."

"How many people have you told?" Near demanded again, then realized how loud he was getting and took a deep breath.

"My friend, Matt. Well, technically he found you in the first place. I can't hack worth shit."

"If I had-"

"Holy…speaking of Matty, he was begging me for that hard drive last week."

"And?" Near prompted, slightly miffed at being interrupted.

"Double-Take Recover Now? Why do you have two of those?"

"To recover my files if they are lost, obviously."

"Yeah, but those are like…thirteen hundred dollars a pop."

"Yes." Mello gesticulated madly in an attempt to convey his amazement at the technology.

"Plus the computers, you have enough tech here to buy a small house."

"Why would I purchase a small house when I own one?"

"You own this place?"

"Obviously. I live in it."

"You're seventeen."

"Yes."

"I've followed you for a while. You don't have a job. That means-" Mello gasped. "I figured it out!" Near waited to see what it was exactly that Mello thought he'd figured out. "All that preaching you do about the law, and you steal your money. You must! So what is it? D'you hack banks, or actually take it from the police. Oooh, you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but-"

"Mello is incorrect!" Near announced.

"What?"

"I do have a job, and I do not steal." Mello's eyes glazed over as he viewed some inner picture, and he asked,

"Are you a waitress? Do you have a uniform?"

"…no."

"Do you have a uniform at all, waitress or otherwise?"

"I do not see how that matters." Mello snapped himself back into reality.

"It doesn't. So what's your job?" It suddenly hit Near that, despite the comfort involved with speaking to someone who knew his secrets, it probably wasn't the best idea to give the man more ammunition to use against him.

"I…uh, work for a company."

"Yeah, right. Which company? What do you do? Do you have a-"

"I do not have a uniform!" Near snapped and then sighed. It didn't really matter, since Mello could already destroy him with what he knew.

"Near Industries."

"You work for Near Industries?" Mello asked. Near waited for the obvious to sink in. When it did, Mello's eyes grew impossibly wide. "Oooooohhhh." Suddenly, he started looking at things with a much more critical eye.

"You own Near Industries, and you're living _here_?"

"You just complimented my house."

"Yeah, it's nice for a normal person, but _you _could afford another thirty rooms or so. With a view. And a tower. And a pool. And a goddamn batcave."

"Then more people would wonder how I afforded those things. Regardless, you can't be much older than me. Where do you get your money from?"

"Here and there." Mello answered vaguely. "Mostly there. I don't have nearly as much as you, though. Chocolate?" Near declined, and watched in amazement as Mello apparently used some sort of hyper dimensional storage space, since it was impossible that he'd pulled the chocolate bar from his barely-there leather pockets. "mmmm. Actually, if you must know, I steal." There was no shame in the statement. If anything, he seemed proud.

"Oh?"

"From people like you. Of course, you have an awesome security system…now I see why. You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Snowflake."

"Please do not call me that."

"Well, I've gotta go. This has been an eye-opening experience. We'll have to do it again, sometime. I'll buy you coffee, tomorrow?"

"No, thank you."

"Fine, you can buy me coffee. You know, since you can afford it, and all." Mello practically skipped out the door, and Near stared after him for a moment, before shaking his head and returning to relative sanity.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: I've decided to tell you all something about me at the beginning of each chapter. In case you couldn't tell, chapter one's confession was that I eat literally as many sweets as L. I bake and consume a cake every day, have at least one large blizzard a day, and eat pints of ice cream, candy, and cookies throughout. But that's all last chapter. This chapter's fun fact is that I have a deep love of chaos that somehow works out. My heroes are Tank Girl, Neil Gaiman's Delirium, Pippi Longstocking, etc. Sometimes, I do weird things because I feel like it's my duty to spice up other people's lives. So, twice a year, I put on my M&M costume, and go to every grocery store in my neighborhood, convincing people it's national M&M day and they should get free M&M's. I highly recommend this practice to anyone who wants free candy. O.O If anyone has any questions about me, I will be glad to make them my A/Ns for future chapters.**_

"Hey, Snowflake! Time for our date!" Near weighed his chances of successfully avoiding Mello, and found them depressingly low. He resigned himself to his fate and shuffled over towards the cheerfully waving figure in black.

"We are not going on a date." He felt the need to clarify to Mello who waved him off, seeming unperturbed.

"I meant a friend date." Mello looked slyly at Near out of the corner of his eye and favored him with a deceptively innocent smile. "What were _you_ thinking?" Characteristically unfazed, Near managed to impart the flavor of glare into his usual blank expression when he replied,

"It doesn't matter what I was thinking; your implications were obvious, and now all of my classmates believe we are going on a date."

"Screw 'em."

"Whether or not I disregard what they say, I have to maintain a certain level of inconspicuousness or I will suffer the consequences of being different."

"I hate to say this, Snowflake, but you're kind of…monochromatic."

"I am aware. Still, my classmates have gotten used to that particular oddity."

"Like I said, screw 'em. What are you worried about?"

"Being pinched, having my books knocked out of my hands, being dyed blue." Near listed in a monotone. He peeked at Mello to see if he'd somehow managed to absorb the message, and was surprised to see the blonde looking utterly furious. His entire body was lined with tension, from his gritted teeth to his white knuckles on the steering wheel.

For the first time, Near was afraid of Mello. Before, it had been more of a detached fear Near had felt, an intellectual understanding that the individual next to him could be a threat. Now, he looked dangerous.

"Mello?" Near asked, just a little more quietly than he would have liked. Glancing at the younger boy, Mello instantly relaxed, and shot a care-free smile over to Near, in reassurance.

"You'd be really cute in blue, ya know?"

"Hm." Near replied noncommittally, secretly relieved.

"But then I couldn't call you Snowflake. Tell me if anyone touches you, okay?"

"I believe I have asked you not to call me Snowflake anyways." Dangerous Mello was back again, and glared at Near.

"Promise me you'll tell me."

"Very well." Near had to admit to some curiosity about how Mello would deal with a potential aggressor. It would be a good gauge of what kind of person Mello was. He hoped his confidence in his ability to restrain Mello was not misplaced.

When Mello passed Near's house and kept driving, Near looked curiously at Mello.

"We passed my house."

"You were going to buy me coffee, remember?"

"I suspect I'll need my wallet to accomplish that."

"No big deal, I'll buy it."

"I declined that offer already."

"Fine, we'll stop by your stupid house."

"If the intelligence of houses is judged by whether they do or do not have bat caves, the vast majority of houses must be sadly lacking to you."

"They are. But that's life. It takes so long to find something interesting, it's worth holding on to when you do." Near twisted his hair in thought.

"Is that why you insist on stalking me?"

"I am not _stalking_ you. We're here." Mello parked in front of Near's house and Near exited the car and shuffled into the house, leaving the door open behind him. Five minutes later, he had yet to come out. Mello tapped on the dashboard impatiently. Ten minutes later, he started to worry. Staring intently at the open door that had yet to yield his fluffy white coffee companion, he wondered if it was possible for someone to have broken into the house. Sure, Near might get mad at him if he waltzed in without permission, but there could be robbers in there _right now_, stealing his things, hurting him, with their robber hands all over him…

Mello was already running into the house.

Instead of bursting in on a scene of Near struggling against ski-masked men with dirty hands, or even Near scolding him for barging in, he found Near crouching on his office chair, looking utterly focused on his computer. Suddenly irritated at having been made to wait for nothing, Mello huffed and asked,

"What the hell are you-"

"Sh." Near shushed him. Near _shushed _him!

"How _dare_-"

"Sh." Near shushed him again. Interested to see what could possibly warrant such a complete disregard for Mello- he was a highly suspicious character, dammit, and deserved to be treated with at least a little apprehension!- he looked over Near's shoulder at the screen.

"What the hell are you watching?"

"The beating and subsequent murder of Ricardo Perez."

"Oh. Heavy stuff, this early in the evening."

"This is actually the third of six videos." Coffee long forgotten, Mello grinned at the screen.

"Can I have a copy?" For the first time, Near pulled his eyes from the screen to look at Mello with disapproval.

"These are highly confidential police files, and are not meant for personal enjoyment."

"That's harsh, snowflake. I just want to see the case."

"Get it yourself. If you are as proficient at hacking as you claim to be, you should be able to easily obtain the same information." For the first time, it dawned on Mello that maybe Near was slightly displeased about having had his secret identity uncovered on a whim. Filing the information away for later, Mello shrugged and dialed his phone. It rang twice, and then

"'lo?"

"Matty?"

"Not so loud, man."

"Are you drunk?"

"Nah, I just haven't slept in…three days."

"Why?"

"New modern warfare. You know how many people are depending on me to find all the cheats in there before they'll even buy the game?"

"I need you to-"

"Wait up, I gotta kill someone." A long pause followed, during which Mello attempted to convince himself that throwing the phone at the wall wouldn't actually hurt Matt. It would just feel really, really satisfying. "…kay. Whazhup?"

"Send me all the files from the police case involving anonymous videos."

"You could do that."

"I know I could do that, but it would take me a couple of hours to get in, whereas I happen to know that you have a constant tap in their shit."

"Fine, fine. I'm sending instructions and all my codes. There. A five year old could follow it, and so can a trigger happy, chocolate obsessed little girl…"

"Matt!" Mello barked into the phone, but Matt's laughter only filled the silence for a minute, and then he hung up.

"Were you successful?"

"Yeah." If Matt said it was done, it was done.

"That was very impressive. I would like to meet your friend."

"Yeah, if you can get every video game company in the world to stop manufacturing for a few weeks, maybe he'll emerge from his room."

"I see."

Mello left quickly, and produced a laptop from…somewhere. The two worked in silence for a while, and the steady tapping of computer keys filled the room, broken by silence as each new video was watched. Near sported a neutral expression, and Mello made dramatic faces at the bloody murders, but neither seemed truly affected by either the deaths or the blood, something each took note of when they glanced away from their screens to judge the other's reactions.

Eventually, Near opened a closet door and pulled out a puzzle from a stack of boxes.

"What's that?"

"My bat cave."

Near was pleasantly surprised by how easily he got used to working with the blonde. Well, not _with_ the blonde, so much as in the same room as him. He was behaving himself for once, so it was like he wasn't even th-

"Hey, Snowflake! Near, near, near, near, guesswhat?" Near sighed and turned.

"Yes?"

"I think it's drug related." Mello looked proud of himself, and Near was privately impressed, although he displayed nothing on his face when he turned to ask Mello

"Why?" Clearly eager to explain, Mello started bringing up tabs, paused to different points in the videos. Near silently lowered his estimate on how much time it'd taken Mello to reach his conclusion if he'd had time to set up an explanation.

"First, I created a timeline. I think the order is Maya, Guillermo, Alex, Ricardo, Clarence, Adam. I-"

"Please refer to them by their last names."

"Herrera, Chavez, Tenor, Perez, Jones, Jones."

"The timeline you created is the same as the order they were delivered to the police station in except for Perez and the first Jones. Why is that?"

"I'm basing it on the order they actually died in."

"If they died in that order, why would they be delivered differently?"

"Clarence and Adam weren't really close despite being brothers. Adam did everything with their cousin, Richard." Mello pulled up a transcript. "Every class the same. Sophomore year, they had different advisory classes and actually switched to be with each other. If Adam was involved in something, Richard was too. The videos are obviously a warning, I suspect they were sent to the police by Richard, the original recipient. If he and Adam were close, they probably added something more personal to his video."

"Good. Now why do you believe this to be drug related?"

"When you put them in order, you can see a pattern of which guy is leading. Even though they're all masked, the heights are different. The odd thing is, the guys who follow are always more energetic. I think they took turns being high so that one of them would always be in control. Also, look at the way he moves his fingers. Every time one of them does delicate work, their fingers twitch in another direction, probably because they're used to setting up lines. Muscle memory, ya know?" Mello demonstrated with his own fingers.

"I believe you are correct. But you missed something." Near smirked, pleased. "I came to the same conclusion based on the fact that all of the victims had small chemical burns around their wrists. Just above where standard gloves would end."

"Snowflake, you should smile more often. Looks good on you." The smirk vanished. Not the smile, the _smirk_.

"I don't think that's relevant. You're too easily distracted."

"No'm not."

"Why try and convince me you are not?"

"I dunn-"

"Before we continue, you need to tell me your true intentions. There is a reason beyond entertainment you wanted to contact N. Tell me now." Mello surprised Near with the speed with which he switched into total seriousness.

"Fine. I want a job."

"A…job?"

"Yeah. Me and my friend. We're good. Just let us help out on this case, and you'll see."

"You wanted a job, and you thought it would help to proposition your potential employer?"

"…yeah? Well, I want a boyfriend too, and I'm kind of a go-for-it kind of guy."

"A…boyfriend."

"Yeah. Eh, to be honest, though, job comes first. Not that you're not absolutely gorgeous, but I don't shit where I eat, ya know?"

"I wish you would stop saying that. I do _not_ know."

"I'm sayin, Snowflake, if our relationship gets in the way of work, work comes first." Near nodded. He completely agreed with the sentiment. Except for one thing.

"We are not in a relationship."

"Give it time, Snowflake."

"Alright."

"Really?"

"I was referring to the job. You may help with this case, and I make no promises about the future."

"Cool! I'll call Matty." A case usually took two weeks, with the help, Near still calculated it would take at least a week. Grudgingly, he invited Mello to stay during that time. He started planning which bookshelves he could sacrifice for his guests. He was staring at the single guest bed he owned, when Mello poked his nose around the corner, trying to see what he was doing.

"Oh, it's cool. Matt and I share a room, and a bed." Near looked at Mello. Although at times, he had the social awareness of a retarded moth, he at least knew the implications of _that_. "Oh, don't give me that look, Snowflake. You're the only one for me. What I mean is, I'll sleep in the bed, and he'll pass out on the floor surrounded by his videogames and laptops."

"Mel, no one opened the door, so I let myself in." Near turned to glare at Mello, who was looking in the direction of the newcomer's voice.

"You left the door unlocked behind you?"

"No, I locked it." The new arrival stepped into the room.

"Eh, open door, cheap lock, same thing." Near looked at him suspiciously. He was wearing a black and white striped shirt under a soft brown leather vest with white fur, oddly stylized jeans and black combat boots with matching leather gloves. Oddest of all, he had on ridiculous yellow goggles. With the goggles covering his eyes and the collar of the vest pulled up to cover most of his chin and mouth, Near had the strangest impression that he was meeting a nose.

"My lock was very expensive." He informed the nose.

"I'll build you a better one."

"Fine." Near was unpleasantly reminded of his new burglar alarm.

"This is our room?"

"Yes."

"Cool. I'm Matt. Mel, help me move my stuff in." Near watched, amazed, as the two started carrying in an impossible mess of wires, computers, videogames, routers, and other things he couldn't identify. Where Near was awkwardly oblivious towards others, and Mello was awkwardly attentive, Matt seemed to be fully socially aware, yet he _chose_ to ignore the existence of other human beings. Every touch towards his tech, however, was loving and careful.

Near worked for a while on the case, informing the police that he would be taking it, and beginning to assemble clues before he went to bed. When he woke up and started preparing for school, he saw the door to his guest room was open, and Matt was still finishing up assembling his devices inside. Mello was absent. Unconcerned, Near continued towards the front door, pleased to have reserved enough time to pick up his morning Danish and coffee before school.

Mello, ever fond of disrupting Near's routine, stopped him.

"I'm making breakfast!"

"There is no food." Near informed him.

"I went grocery shopping, for breakfast, because your kitchen is sad."

"My kitchen is inanimate and does not experience emotions."

"Well, then, your kitchen makes me sad. But now it has food, and I'm making breakfast!"

Mello sashayed around Near's kitchen for a while, while Near sat glumly at a chair, although he perked up a little when Mello opened the oven and revealed Danishes.

"You can make Danishes?"

"Frozen foods aisle, Snowflake."

"I see. What exactly are you wearing?"

"Pajamas."

"Where is the shirt?"

"I don't sleep with one. You like what you see?" Mello stretched for Near, showing off lithe muscles under tanned skin, and hoping to catch Near's eyes lingering. Instead, they rolled, before he replied,

"I have no opinions on the matter, except a mild curiosity about how you went grocery shopping wearing only that."

"I wore clothes when I went out…"

"Then why did you change back for breakfast."

"I wanted breakfast to be enjoyable for you."

"I see. In the future, please do not refrain from wearing clothes on my account." Mello hmphed, and dropped a plate of eggs, bacon and Danish in front of Near, with a glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee. "Will you be having any?"

"Nah, eating'll throw me off. After I drop you off at school, I'm going back to sleep for another few hours."

"Oh." Near chose, for once, to be polite, and ate the breakfast Mello had woken up to make for him. It was a unique experience to be cared for in such a way. Breakfast had been cooked for Near before, of course, but then it hadn't been cooked for Near specifically, it had been prepared for all of the orphans in the cafeteria. Even from Lola's, food was somewhat impersonal. Although he never would have admitted it, Near was touched by the gesture.

School was, for once, interesting, as Near wondered what his guests were doing in his absence, and when it finally ended, his curiosity was piqued even further by Mello's failure to appear with a ride, and he started home, somewhat absentmindedly speculating if his house would be destroyed. Suddenly, a warm liquid was dumped on Near's head, and started streaming down his back and face. Quickly, he bent over, so it would drip onto the sidewalk instead, and he watched a pool of three-day-old kool-aid start to form. Sighing, he straightened up, and looked for his attackers, who were gone, before continuing home. He received several odd stares, but was more concerned with the way the dye soaked into his skin and stained it.

By the time Near reached home, he was tired, irritated, and dirty. He wearily headed towards his room and the waiting shower when-

"Damn, Snowflake. What happened?"

"I was immersed in Kool-Aid. If you'll excuse me, I would like to shower."

"Go ahead?" Near took a shower, watching the pastel blue water swirl down the drain. The dye came out of his hair easily enough- mostly because he didn't concern himself with damaging it with the amounts of shampoo he used- but a few light stains stayed on his skin no matter how roughly he rubbed at them. When he accidentally broke the skin, scrubbing, Near resigned himself to waiting for the color to fade. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself into a towel, then turned off the faucet, and walked into his room.

"Hey, Snowflake." Near jumped.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Brought you this." Mello offered Near a tupperware container of…goop.

"What is it?"

"Dishwashing soap mixed with baking soda."

"Thank you." Near accepted it, wondering what it was for.

"It always got hair dye off, so I figured it'd help with whatever made you blue."

"Hair dye?" Near looked closely at Mello- really at his hair- who raised his hands in defense.

"Not me! Matty decided he wanted to be a redhead, a couple of years ago, before he realized no one looks at him, but me and his computers."

"Oh. Well. Please get out of my room. I am going to shower again." Mello pouted, then brightened up as he got an idea.

"Can I help you scrub your back?"

"Absolutely not."

"Fine." Pouting again, he left. Showering the second time was much more effective, although Near had to be much more gentle washing the bits of skin he had over-scrubbed before. Looking at the blue stains on his towel and clothes, he briefly envied them for their ability to simply be bleached back to white.

Near was on his way to the laundry room to do just that, but Mello was waiting outside his door with his arms crossed.

"So what happened?"

"I was immersed in-"

"Don't use passive tense. What did who do to you?"

"A classmate poured Kool-aid on me during my walk home. I do not know which."

"I should've picked you up."

"It is fine."

"It's not going to happen again."

"I agree. Most likely, when they see that I am not stained tomorrow, they will consider new methods. I suspect the attack was partially out of curiosity to see whether I always wear the same clothes."

"That's ridiculous. Of course you don't."

"How do you know?"

"Went through your closet."

"….please refrain from entering my room in the future."

"Kay. Any other house rules?"

"May I give you a drug test?"

"What? Seriously?"

"Yes, I am curious to see if the experience you applied to the videos was first hand."

"I guess so? I'm clean, but if you really have your heart set on obtaining my bodily fluids, I can think of much more fun ways to-"

"Mel, calm down. That's the shittiest pick up line ever."

"Yeah, but look at what he gives me to work with."

"Your fault for falling for a sheep. No offense, Near." Matt was wearing a nice suit, and his hair was neatly brushed.

"Did you go somewhere?"

"Yeah. I just talked to Richard Potter. Like my suit? Surprisingly easy to be taken seriously."

"He answered your questions seriously?"

"Yeah. Well, also I had this." Matt held out an SIS card.

"You are part of the Secret Intelligence Service?"

"Don't be so paranoid. I printed it out this morning. While certain other people were sprawled out on the bed, snoring." Mello raised his eyebrows in the universal expression for _I'm not going to dignify that with a comment_.

"What did you learn?"

"I got full cooperation. The victims were all med students that accidentally made a drug. Once they realized the effects, they started selling it. S'called Bliss." He pulled out a packet of light blue pills. "They trampled on someone else's territory. Case closed. I even have the names of the dudes who killed the kids…somewhere." He patted around his pockets until he found a crumpled piece of paper. "Kid knew everything, he was just scared to go to the police."

"Why?"

"Oh, yeah." He patted around his pockets again before he found a squashed jewelry box and handed it to Near. "Put on gloves before you open it." Near found latex gloves and opened the box. Mello jumped back.

"Matt, you had those in your pocket?"

"What, you wanted me to carry them in my mouth like a chipmunk?"

"Gross, Matt!" Near picked up all five fingers, matching each to the severed fingers from the Adam video.

"We will verify everything you found, and send everything to the police by the morning."

"We?" Matt snorted. "You hear that?" Matt, Mello and Near all listened to the dead silence of the house. "That's Mario calling me. G'luck." Matt vanished, leaving Near confused.

"I didn't hear anything." Mello sighed.

"That's the point, Snowflake. C'mon. Let's do some work." Near felt oddly useless, with the case being solved by the time he'd come home, but as he assembled the police report, he enjoyed the same feeling of the puzzle coming together. They finished as the sun started going down.

"You may stay."

"Oooh, you want to live together already?"

"As assistance for my cases."

"For now."

"Forever."

"Promises of forever so early in the relationship?" Silently admitting defeat, Near ignored the reply. As much as he hated to admit it, Mello's driven attitude, and Matt's hacking abilities- and acting abilities- were both useful additions to N. What he couldn't explain was

"Why do you not work independently."

"You're making me feel repetitive. It's not about solving the world's problems. We want entertainment. This is entertaining, you've already got the whole notoriety thing going on, and you can afford to pay us tons. It's better to work under a title."

"Well, you can continue working with me until we have problems. We'll go over your salaries in the morning."

"You're a pessimistic little snowflake, aren't you?"

"Now that I am your employer, I would like to request that you desist in calling me that."

"Not a chance, _Snowflake_."


End file.
